NIGHT OF CELTIC MUSIC REVIVALISM

A mock sketch of Celtic Music Revivalism after the fashion of Yates and Gregory ( there are no Lady s in our Republc)
this is a scatological piece; Rablasian in some of its depictions, and screaming out for psycho analysis in others.
many of the images are personal and shared with just a few friends and would be much too difficult to adress here.
So its very experimental; Im venting a style of writing which I feel is disinhibited . See how it goes
Don

Submitted:Nov 20, 2008
Reads: 141
Comments: 2
Likes: 2

It is mid December , and the first slush of winter has fallen and
muddied the streets.The venue was a small pub in lower Salthill.
A small frugal hotel with a large open bar room , and a cold
stone floor. The fireplace is after the Gandon fashion .Bigger
than function demanded . Grandiose for the Spartan surroundings .
The chairs are equally functional and unpretentiously wooden. It
is midweek and the fire is unlit.
The proprietor , a retired Scotland Yard detective , looks
skeptically out from the low hung counter at the muddied
floor.
No ! he wasn't going to put the fire down for this lot. He took
his sense of frugality from the highlands .

The West Galway branch of Ceolteori Connacht have assembled for
a night of Celtic Music Revival . The Yatesean model of the
early centaury revived

Their enthusiasm is patriotic :their fervour unbridled.

The Muinteoir for the proceedings is a student of marine
biology. His gift is neither in music nor nationalism ,nor indeed
is his zeal quite for either quite so altruistic .
He sees in these gatherings , an opportunity where he might get
an easy ride.
And what if you had to fork out 40 quid for a mandolin ; so what
, he reasoned . He knew he would never have to play a solo , and
thus he retained the unchallenged pretence of an alleged
virtuosity.

There is a number of diverse musicians assembled ; pipes, (
both the uileann and the bag- both sworn bitter enemies ) ;
guitars , mandolins , zithers, mandolas- and then there were the
bodhran players.

The bodhran players numbered about two to each musician ; this
was an unsafe balance and the muinteor had herded them as cows
in a corral in one corner of the room - and this all but
occupied over half of the available space.
He regarded them now with a kindly eye thinking how much they
looked like a pack of beasts on a leash and foaming at the
mouth.
He was , he thought looking into the true face of
fundamentalism.

-' Great turn out lads . Fair play.. We do always need the
bodhran man. Great turn our '

Jesszes , he thought - the true terrorists of Irish traditional
music. He d smiled benignly at the unwieldy corral.

He scanned the room with a pained and dreaded eye, but composed
himself .

- Well this is a great turn out entirely , what ! A great turn
out- Fair play to ye.!
Well my name is Mick and I play the mandolin. I'm no maestro
but I can see a few gifted players here tonight .
He paused and looked at some formidable players ,who returned his
look with a seething ridicule .

_Lookit lads tonight is all about re - re june -rejunivating the
songs our fathers loved , as they say , the music of the aul
hearht.. The family that plays together ,stays tog..
-Fuck up Pisso and get on with it.-
Raucous laughter .
-Right lads but can ye do it -that's the challenge I put before
ye tonight.?

He looks with skepticisms ,deep into his audience ; a challenge
laid down.

- So I think the best way to start is at the beginning ; that is
the e tusssach as they say , and whenever ye can lads would ye
try an remember to owl teanga ; aimsear laithereach so.. Ana ways
..Ta se cho tabheachtacht sin go gcathigh me ag leabhart as
bearle , am go h'am . An tuigeann sibh e sin ??. OK so OK !!. Air
aigh linn so ; back to the Bearla so.. We 'll keep it bilingual
where we have to lads, only when we have to.. Allright so-We'll
start with that lovely old air .. Whats it at all ; OH I know it
well . Da da dada da.. Da da da dada!!…Da da da da daaaa.!…ana
wan know it.. Dam an blast it .. Da da da .. Dada..
- Its 'Faine geal an lae '- ye wanker !!

Lads in the tympany section ;- do ye know what I think..well I
think ye could just play in twos for a start- then we'll move on
with two to one and so on like that , and then tree to wan .. And
maybe later four at..

- ye mane we're not musicians atall is it ? -one of the more
ferocious bodhran players , asks - his eyebrows knotted in a
warlike frown.

No No Notatall lads, !! sure yere the vera heartbate of the
rigout - just to make it aisy fer tha other lads like ..
He manages to restore a semblance of order after a fashion . He
empathised with the sign they had in those wild west bars ' don't
shoot the pianist- he's doing the best he can.

-Sorry lads .. A bit of hush so, one singer one song are ye
right..? We'll try it in the key of C..

- Hey ! A member from that flautist section stands up.
- My pipes are tuned to B flat minor !!- he says with an attitude
of defiance.
Mike considers this for a moment . An illuminating scheme comes
to him of a sudden.
-All right lads , back to the starting post again as the say .
Air ais linn gi dti an tosach so.. We'll try it in B flat ,
lads.

- no good!!! - there is a chorus again from the flautists
- all out tin whistles are in the key of F

Mike considers this. Jeez the bloddy cheek of them.. The bloddy
cheek.. couldn't't they but the full range and a tanner a
whistle..and me mandolin - 40 quid how-are-ya!
But diplomacy served him well now, and in another flash of
unsullied inspiration he says evenly-

- are there any more of ye lads, with the different keys like
,

There is a garbled response ..

-All right lads , all right !! So we have F E D G C .. is that
it…

An elder man in country tweeds is seated at the Piano where he
had been ( sort of ) clawing the air for some time to no
great effect , and for no evident purpose now addresses the
group-
- Sorry lads, gentlemen , through the caththior - a mhuinteoir
..

Ahh good man Tom ! - Mike says welcoming the respite , and
wondering what's in the little kitty under the table , he slips
an articulate hand into the bag . Hmm not bad .. Not bad.. He
says.returning seamlessly to the urbane gentleman.
- yes Tom.. Carry on ..

- That hoor was above in the crane litherary PJ Carther school an
she made a bollix of the whole school.!!!

- hear hear !- Now yere talkin !!

- I have only one thing to say to yis ye little git ..yis are
out of order and yis are all out of tune..!

- that's two things- fuck him out ..!!

- let him claw the fucken air above in the aula..!!

-Yis are a pile of uncultivated yobos.yis ..!!

-Cuineas lads a bit if cuineas , this is doin fuck all for Celtic
revivalism.. Lads ye have to go aisey .. Aisy lads ,.. We'll be
havin a short break now and they'll be raffle tickets
available , for this beautiful prize , he points to a stuffed
animal head atop of which is mounted a lead soldier ( WW2)
- the statue of Chu Culainn himself -isn't she a beauty . God
I'd love to win her - and a few bob thrown in as well, so give
generously lads .. We'll see ye after the break.

He neatly slips off three yellow tickets , pockets them and
says;
- may the best man win lads , and retires to the leitheras.
He takes out the bottle of poteen , and takes a long swig ; his
face contorts - but wait he assures himself - see what it'll do
for you.
- see what it does to you !!! he says , jubilantly as the fire
take hold on his brain- and as he feels himself levitating.. -
Transubstation..!! And he skips his merry way back to the
rehearsal room.

Some minutes later he is back in front of a sectionalized
audience . Two sides of the civil war are facing one another
down as he resumes his seat .

- well now lads , the raffle tickets are all in - he looks and to
his horror more that a score have been sold .
Fuckers , fuckers .. - his thoughts were unarticulated but
thinks .. Fuckit- maybe .. No fuckit =but he smiles
blandly.
There is a drunken woman swaying near his desk , her bagpipes
drawing her down. She has drawn a ticket from a baineen
cap.
- well Kitty .. Whats the news.. Who'se the lucky winner of this
.. This.. Whereupon Kitty collapses on Chu Chulainn.
Mike takes the ticket from her as she sobers and tries to find
the bellows on chu chulainn..Mike ignores this .

- And the winner is a yellow ticket.. Number 56 .
A rotund man with a beetroot face , puts aside his bag of chips
and sausages and waddles forward with the winning
ticket.

-Good man !!Ledonard !! - no bettter man..!
He slips his hand beneath his desk and extracts a goodly fistful
of notes, pockets them and continues.
- Now Leonard is see you've brought your thingamagig along ..
Would you ever give us a blast before we present the prize,
cuineas.. Lads for a second
.
There is an angry gust gathering in the pressure cooker
atmosphere of the house , and the mutterings are fusing with
bellicosity.
Taking advantage of the diversion , as he attempts to placate
the foaming armies he slips his hand deftly beneath the desk
once more , grabs another few notes and coins, and pockets
these .
.
Lads .. Lads in the name of Pearse and Connolly and Joyce
- who the fick was Joyce .. And Wilde.

- dem fuckere wasn't in tha post office ..!!

- well any ways all the dead.. The Bauld Fenian .. and Sean
South..and the Lad of Eighteen Summers … I appeal to yere sense
of Nationalism lads…!!

At length a resentful silence descends once more.

- watch where he puts his thingamigig !!

More racous laughter ..

- What'd you say Leonard .will you give us a blast ?.. Ok so off
you go in your own time

Leonard plucks a raucous note on the ukulele , and the chord that
follows is more discordant and displeasing.

- lads we'll do away with the chords for tonight and let ye play
now in the old way;- doh, ray, me , so.. Fah -and so on..
-that should suit everyone .Away with you Leonard .. And a wan
!and a two-!!! and a tree--!!!

Whistles, flutes , bodhrans , pipes are hurdles at the
pickwickian character waddling out the door in haste , as the
Scotland Yard man , leaps the counter brandishing a shillelagh
and his service pistol.

He fires twice puncturing the bloated bladder of a set of
pipes.
- jees ma pipes .
- Jeez ma bodhran - as the taught pigs skin shrivels to
tatters.

As the melee accelerates , and we leave the evening of Celtic
Musical Revivalism, we see a man stuffing the statue of Chu
Chulainn into the boot of his little blue fiat. He has a sack
over his shoulder which he throws into the back .
Propped against the passenger door is a drunken woman , bawling ,
sobbing. keening. She has lost her punctured pipes .
.
-Shh .. Shh. Kitty ..get in there ..

He checks the dashboard for the packet of Durex..props her back
up again.

- yer sound Kitty.. Sound .. Aisey now girl.. Thry an sit
straight for a minute .. Good girl..!!
He drives out into the dark, in the spraying slush , to either
side , with one headlight lighting up the night , assured that
the night has not cost him a cent ,and the other thing was in
as good as in the bag.
Celtic Music Revivalism was well and thriving.
- Jazes Kitty ; would ya sit straight for a few minutes .. Good
girl..
She is comatose .
- Good on ya Kitty ; yer always on for it girl..!!